


The Keeper

by supreme_genius



Series: Tick Tock Tick Tock [7]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe and Nick's relationship takes a big step forward when there's a possible threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, I don't own Grimm or any of the character.
> 
> This is in Monroe's POV.
> 
> Unbeta'd of course.

                Nick was sitting at the table, enthralled in the case files spread over the surface in front of him. I watched him flip through papers and photos, send a couple texts, and sip at his beer. I leaned against the counter, drink in hand, and just watched him. He was meticulous almost to a fault; he couldn’t let anything get under his radar. But I guess that’s what makes him such a good detective. He furrowed his brow and squinted as he eyed one of the photos. Nick is an interesting person to watch. He thinks he’s spontaneous, but really he’s a creature of habit. He finally figured out what he’d been missing – it was written all over his face. If you pay enough attention to and spend enough time with someone, just a simple eye twitch can tell you everything they’re thinking.

                “You figure it out, man?”

                “HOLY. SHIT.”

                Nick jumped up from the table, stack of photos in hand, and ran into the living room. Out of both curiosity and habit I followed him. He set the stack of crime scene photos on the coffee table and then started rearranging my furniture. I opened my mouth to object but stopped – I didn’t want to ruin his train of thought. I could just move everything back later. When he had everything pushed to the outer walls, he got on the floor and started spreading out the photos. He rearranged them a few times, lining them up and then switching some of them around. Then I saw it – what Nick had stumbled upon.

                “What the fuck?” It was all I could manage. I looked down at the photos arranged across my living room floor and was completely dumbfounded.

                Nick got up, took a few steps back, and stood next to me. His mouth gaped in shock.

                “Oh, dude…” I looked over at Nick.

                “What is it?”

                “Not good.”

                _Not good at all and we are not leaving this house!_

If you were to just flip through the photos in any random order – hell, even in the right order – it would just look like smudges across the body and the sounding area. If you arrange the photos side-by-side, six across and six down…well, you can’t miss it. It was paint, maybe, in the shape of a triquetra woven through a pentagram.

                “Monroe!”

                I sighed. “It’s the symbol of the mná na draíochta. It’s straight Irish for women of magic. They’re like witches or enchantresses – whatever you want to call them. They’re evil, man. They’re beautiful as all hell, but pure evil. Nick, we are _not_ going after her…or even worse _them_.”

                _No! No! No! A million times no!_

“But Mon –”

                “No!”

                “You can stay here but I’m going.”

                The wolf was just below the surface. I did my best to drive it back down. But Nick really would get himself killed if he went after these women. I was not about to lose him. He went for the door and I couldn’t keep the wolf locked up anymore. I grabbed his arm, pulling him back, and then practically threw him down on the sofa. The look on his face was that of disbelief and anger. He tried to get up but I pushed him back down.

                “Monroe! These women killed eight people. I have to stop them.”

                He was still on the sofa. My hands were on either of his shoulders, gripping him hard enough that there’d probably be some light bruising tomorrow. Our faces were only a few inches apart. The wolf was still very much present.

                “I said no.”

                There was a hint of fear in Nick’s eyes. Leaving one hand on his right shoulder, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I dialed a number, knowing it by heart even though I’d never had to dial it before. I always hoped I would never have to. Every wesen in Portland knew the number. Usually if one had to dial the number, they didn’t get the chance.

                I heard a slight click – someone picked up – but no voice. I could hear the faint sound of breathing.

                “Wir haben ein problem.”

                “ _What is it_?” The voice was deep; it sent a shiver down my spine.

                “Mná na draíochta.”

                “ _Do you know how many?_ ”

                “No, sir, but they may be involved with those murders all over the news.”

                “ _I see. I’ll take care of it._ ”

                “One more thing, sir.”

                “ _Yes?_ ”

                I pressed the phone to my chest to muffle the sound. “Don’t fucking move, Nick.” I walked down the hall into my bedroom, hoping Nick wouldn’t over hear. “It’s about the grimm.”

                “ _Trouble?_ ”

                “Well…you know the... _situation_ …”

                “ _Mhm…?_ ”

                “He wants to go after them.”

                “ _Don’t let him._ ”

                “I’m doing my best. You know what he’s like, though.”

                “ _Even if you have to chain him down, Monroe, you keep him there. You keep him_ safe _!_ ”

                “Yes, sir.”

                “ _Good_ _night._ ”   

                “Good night.”

                Nick was on the couch where I left him. I had to admit – I was kind of surprised he didn’t try to leave when I left the room. His arms were folded across his chest; he was pouting. I sat down next to him. I felt bad about being so rough with him, but I couldn’t let him go. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the floor.

                “I’m sorry.”

                Nothing.

                “Nick…we need to talk.”

                His expression softened but he didn’t say anything – didn’t even look at me.

                “These women are dangerous, Nick. It’s not that I doubt your grimm abilities…I just…they could easily take out a seasoned grimm. If I let you go, I might as well go out back and start digging your grave. I don’t want to lose you. I _can’t_ lose you. I love you, Nick.”

                He turned his head, slowly, and finally looked at me. There were tears welling up in his eyes.

                “You don’t have to say it ba –”

                He flung himself at me, arms wrapping around my neck. He clung to me like an octopus. It felt like he was shaking. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tight. I nuzzled my face in the crook of his neck. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but it felt like forever. When he finally pulled away he sat back and just stared at me.

                “I love you, too, Monroe.”

                I smiled.

                “I’m sorry.”

                “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have wolfed-out on you like that.”

                “Don’t be; I probably wouldn’t have listened if you didn’t.”

                “Yeah, I think we need to work on that.”

                He laughed.

                “So, who did you call?”

                “Um…” I didn’t know what to tell him – I wasn’t sure I should really tell him the truth.

                “Monroe…?”

                I sighed. “Th –”

                I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I sniffed the air – nothing smelled out of the ordinary. I thought for a second. There was another knock. It wasn’t a normal knock.

                _Morse code? Oh!_

I walked to the door and opened it up. My eyes were met with a pair of fierce green ones. For a split second I wondered why he came over. Then it hit me. Nick needed to be clued in. I invited him in and he took a seat in the living room. When I sat back down next to Nick, his eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

                “C-captain? What’re you doing here?”

                “We need to talk. All three of us.”

                “Umm…”

                “He knows, Nick. Not just about our relationship. He _knows_.”

                “H-how?”

                The captain let down his guard – let his true features show. His eyes changed from their usually light green color into a deep emerald that almost glowed. His teeth became longer and sharper. Nails lengthen into claws. He didn’t really look that much different. Nick was completely captivated by the newfound changes in his boss. I looked over at him; his eyes were wide with intrigue. I looked back to Renard. The horns came next – sprouting just above his temples, growing to an intimidating length. He stood up. Last, but definitely not least, the wings appeared. They weren’t big, but were still absolutely magnificent. They had a span of maybe four feet. They were black and resembled a cross between a raven’s wings and a bat’s wings. There he was, Captain Sean Renard, the keeper of Portland, in all his glory.

                “Whoa.” Nick finally spoke. “Wh-what are…?”

                “Pfleger.” Renard’s voice was deep, penetrating right down to the bone.

                Nick turned to me.

                “It’s German for keeper.”

                “So you…”

                “Protect Portland? Yes. It’s mine – my city to keep safe.”

                “So this is who you called, Monroe?”

                “Yeah. Every wesen in Portland has his number in case there’s…trouble.”

                “How long have you known?” He turned back to his boss.

                “Since you came to the department.”

                “Have you…known when the cases were wesen-related?”

                “Yes.”

                “How long have you known about Monroe and me?”

                “He told me shortly after you started staying with him.”

                Nick just nodded. It had to be a lot to take in. I looked back over at Renard. He must’ve taken the hint because his wesen-features slowly started to fade away one-by-one. His wings disappeared along with the horns. Nails and teeth shrunk. Then his eyes faded back to their pale, but still fierce, green.

                “Look, Nick, I know it’s a lot to take in. We’ve wanted to tell you for a while – clue you in – but we’ve needed the perfect moment.”

                “And with the mná na draíochta, this became that moment. You _can’t_ go after them.” Renard’s tone was firm and warning. “I know you can hold your own against jägerbars and gieres and pretty much any wesen that comes along. But this is different.”

                “Ok.” Nick sighed.

                Renard got up, leaned close to Nick, and whispered in his ear. “Listen to your blutbad.”

                It was reassuring to know the keeper of Portland would trust me with the resident grimm. Pflegers didn’t usually hold blutbaden in high regard. They did, however, hold the grimms in quite a high regard – that is, as long as they weren’t a loose cannon.

                “I should be going.” Renard stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “Good night, Nick. I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

                “But –”

                “You deserve a few days off.”

                I walked him to the door. He nodded at me as he stepped over the threshold into the cool night air.

                “Good night, Monroe.”

                “Good night, sir.”

                “Keep him safe.”

                I nodded. He stepped off the porch, got in his car, and drove away. I watched his taillights fade before closing the door and returning to Nick. He looked so overwhelmed. His usually vibrant grey eyes looked dull and tired. He even looked a little pale.

                “Hey, you ok?”

                “Yeah, just…wow.”

                “I know. I wish we weren’t in this situation. I would’ve liked to tell you in a nicer way. I feel like I’ve been lying to you. I haven’t but…ugh…I just…I don’t know.”

                “It’s ok, Monroe. Let’s go to bed.”

                Nick got up from the sofa and disappeared down the hall. I sighed. This was probably going to take a while for him to get used to. But at least now he knows. I finally got up and walked down the hall into my bedroom. Nick was already in bed. I shed my khakis and sweater and crawled in next to him. He was quick to snuggle against my chest, wrapping and arm around waist. The rain started to patter against the window; between the _drip drip drip_ and the slow sigh of Nick’s breathing, sleep seemed to come easy.

                I was half asleep when I heard Nick whisper, “You don’t have to worry.”


End file.
